


Do You Like Me?

by Kaze_Amaya



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaze_Amaya/pseuds/Kaze_Amaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba has died after years of being with Virus and Trip. A little drabble about Virus and Trip really, no angst here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Like Me?

**Author's Note:**

> I got to thinking about Aoba dying in ViTri's end and I plan to write a lil fic about that, but first off I just wanted to write this drabble to serve as a distraction from the pain I'm in right now. Figured I'd post it and link it into a group with the real fic later, please pardon any mistakes because I am posting this with my phone and phones can be difficult. Enjoy.

They sat on the couch, Virus on one end with his head in his hand balanced on the armrest and a half-finished book in his other hand, Trip sprawled out sideways on the other end with his feet a good two inches away from touching the natural blond. The younger has his attention on the TV while he flips through channels, impatient and disinterestedly switching to the next channel, to the next, to the next, the next, next, next, next, only giving each one seven seconds exactly to catch his eye. No more, no less.

This doesn't bother Virus, as he's become used to this behaviour and similar as his background noise for their days spent together. Which is nearly everyday, needing to watch each other's backs more than ever now that they've become kidnappers.

Though, does that label still fit them if the beloved kidnapped-in-question has passed on he wonders?

His mind wanders, eyes slowing their repetitive, quick back and forth motion to a halt over a few insignificant bits of ink on the 143rd page of his novel. Trip continues clicking by shows that fail to interest him. He doesn't stop when Virus speaks up a few minutes later.

"Hey, Trip?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think Aoba-san ever loved us?"

The channel hopping halts on a station showing an old How It's Made rerun. Trip wonders how old this show is now, knowing it's been playing since before he was dragged into this world. His mind locks back on the question he had been asked a second later, eyes looking over to his colleague, calm as ever.

"Questioning Aoba's love for us now that he's dead is rude, don't you think?"

Virus' eyes move up to the television.

"I suppose you are right."

It seems Trip has settled on this show, attention moving back to their large screen to be captivated by the surprisingly calming and hypnotic view of how chain link fences are made. They both watch with mild fascination in how man and machine work together to create this simple thing they had never put much thought into beyond, 'This is a hassle to climb, come hoist me up and I'll pull you over.'

Book closed and forgotten on his lap, Virus sets it down on the midnight black rimmed, purple tinted glass coffee table. It's just another one in the three short stacks of forgotten books neither had bothered to move yet, the beginning of a fourth stack sure to build up as tall as the others within the week. He speaks again, voice even.

"Trip?"

"Mmhm?"

"Do you... like me?" His hesitation is not out of nerves, but rather wondering if there had been another way to word it so it wouldn't be as awkward as it turned out to be. Then again, he doesn't have to worry about being awkward with Trip, because he gets a blunt answer right away.

"I don't hate you."

Of course. If he did hate the other, he wouldn't be sitting here. He'd be off on his own again in a heartbeat, and Virus knows, because he's the same. That in itself is why neither worries about it happening.

"That isn't the same thing, however, is it?" It's less of a question, more of a statement. Again, the reply is immediate and blunt.

"I guess it isn't." 

Virus chuckles, smiling faintly- honestly, as he's always honest around Trip, even when he's lying to everyone else in the world. He turns to mirror his partner in crime, the thought almost making him chuckle again, with his back in the corner between the back of the couch and the armrest. Their legs move to tangle together comfortably on the plush cushion in the middle.

"Virus..."

"Yes?"

"Do you like me?"

Unlike Trip's instantaneous answers, Virus takes a few seconds to think, humming in thought.

"I don't mind having you by my side."

"That's not the same."

"No, it's not."

And neither are bothered nor surprised with the other's answers, their comfortable silence floating lightly around them once more.


End file.
